


just such a happy mess // petekey

by otterhatesyou



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: (should i make this a full fic???), Discussion of Death, M/M, Mini Fic, but there’s not rlly any smut, discussion of sex, i do say the word cock a lot though, mikey and frank r roommates, side frerard but not rlly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otterhatesyou/pseuds/otterhatesyou
Summary: mikey’s got a lot of rules so that he doesn’t mess his life up. pete’s got a dead boyfriend. in theory, they’re not a very perfect match.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. you make me break all my rules

**Author's Note:**

> hi! 
> 
> petekey mini fic for you. if you’re here from twitter, i love you 
> 
> i might turn this into a full book just let me know at the end or whatever

as a rule, mikey didn't live with his friends. nothing sent a friendship into decline faster than arguing over who left the milk out to go sour. he'd ignored that rule when it came to frank because he was desperate for housing closer to the city, and his best friend had a spare room, and he'd been regretting that for around 6 months at this point. 

"get up, sleepyhead. we need you to help run tech tonight", frank had barged into mikey's room without knocking as per usual, waking him up with a pillow to the face. mikey groaned, giving a pathetic sniffle and refusing to open his eyes.  
"frank, i could've been jerking off".  
"nothing i haven't seen before", the shorter boy whispered, ruffling the sleeping boy's hair. mikey sat up then, grimacing as he remembered all of the times in their single year of friendship that they'd accidentally walked in on each other in compromising positions. if he had a dollar for ever instance then, well, he'd have thirteen dollars, which wasn't exactly a lot of money, but it was definitely a lot of times to be caught within those circumstances. 

the second he sat up, frank passed him a mug of coffee - black, one sugar, just the way he liked it. mikey sipped it gratefully. and okay, fine, maybe frank wasn't such a bad roommate at times like this, but mikey also knew that this gesture was just petty bargaining. 

"frankie, i'm sick. you know i'm sick. why else would i be sleeping at six in the afternoon?".  
"maybe you're high".  
"i don't smoke".  
"mikes!", frank flopped his body over mikey's bed, looking up at the boy with his stupid fucking smile. it was pitiful. "adam is in vermont and i don't trust anyone else with my guitar. mikey, come on, you've not even got a temperature. please". 

maybe the coffee won him over. or maybe it was the puppy dog eyes. 

mikey rolled himself out of bed and grabbed the first pair of clean-ish jeans from his dirty laundry basket. he also grabbed a jacket because the two of them always walked to the dive, and new jersey wasn't exactly warm, especially not in january. 

while they sauntered along on the fifteen minute walk together, he made frank listen to a list of all the ways he was going to repay him for this, getting to "seventeen - you'll pay my half of the rent this month" when frank finally stopped him.  
"that's overstepping".  
"no, you know what overstepping is? all the times you've told me you want to fuck my brother. consider this compensation".  
"your brother is hot, dude. i can't help knowing a good lay when i see one", frank shot back, and mikey shuddered because he knew that frank was only half messing with him. "speaking of which, are you gonna hook up with anyone tonight? because i'm up for staying with james if you want the apartment".  
Mikey scoffed and said, "you're out of your mind if you think any girl is going to want to hook up with a guy who hasn't showered in two days and has only eaten soup for the last week".  
"you're dramatic", frank teased. "you're also out of your mind for thinking i meant a girl". 

oh yeah. of course. that was something people knew about now. 

gerard was a total older brother archetype when mikey drunkenly stammered out the fact he liked guys last month, and had supported him wholeheartedly with open arms. frank had taken more of a what he called 'aggressive love' approach, threatening to single handedly end the life of anyone who ever made mikey feel invalidated. frank's second priority was getting mikey a boyfriend. or a quick fuck. those two things were interchangeable in frank's head. 

"i don't need one of your pity setups", mikey told him, but he made sure to smile. he'd been putting the effort in to look less intimidating lately, because his resting face always seemed more judgemental than contemplative. 

the bar frank always played at was underground lit with purple led lights, and it stank like piss. it was a total and utter dive, which is probably why they'd named it ‘the dive', and on nights when pencey played it was usually populated by seedy wannabe punk guys and girls with offensively low-riding jeans. they were cool, though. even if the place was quite disreputable, the residents were always fun to drink with. 

mikey helped the band set up, and then snuck off to sit at the bar at the back of the room once they started the show. 

"mikey! didn't think i'd see you tonight. a little birdie told me you were under the weather", the bar tender got a class from behind the counter and poured two neat shots of whiskey. "this'll help. i'll join you".  
"i've been better, rocco", the boy said, and the two of them drank their shots. it sort of burned mikey's throat more than it helped, but he smiled at the large man anyway, because he had common decency and that was hard to find.  
"drinking on the job?", mikey asked, and the man winked, moving over to the left for a second to serve an actual paying customer. 

mikey sat on the bar stool and watched frank up on stage. he was screaming down his mic and flailing his arms around like he was lost without his guitar, and though mikey could barely differentiate between most of their songs, he knew it must've been a classic of theirs, because the crowd were going absolutely insane. they were feeding off of frank's energy. a pit had formed. mikey felt oddly proud of his best friend. 

"good, aren't they?", a guy sat down on the stool besides mikey and gestured at the band. he was wearing a white denim jacket, and said possibly the douchiest thing a guy could say to a person alone at a bar. "you come here often?".  
"seriously? the oldest pickup line in the book?", mikey snorted, looking the guy up and down. he was short, with messy black hair, and his jeans were cuffed at the ankles. he had black smudged around his eyes, and it was honestly kind of attractive in a grungy panda kind of way, but mikey pushed that thought to the back of his head. "yeah. i come here often", he said.  
"i'm in a band too, back in california. we're not like, popular, but we're bringing an album out, like soon".  
"how cool", mikey smirked. who was this kid? he can't have been younger than twenty but his energy was screaming seventeen. or seven. "so you're in jersey for what?".  
"the music scene. i just moved here, the scene is really cool". 

mikey actually agreed with that one. 

rocco came back and mikey asked for two beers, relieved that there was another person in the conversation.  
"don't let frank drink one. i know that kid's not legal yet".  
"rocco, what harm is a few months", mikey went to grab his beers, but rocco stopped him.  
"mikey".  
"okay! fine, fine", he sighed and looked at the talkative stranger who'd sat next to him. "you want this? i get them on the house".  
"sure! thanks, mikey", he said, taking it and grinning because he'd picked up on his name. 

mikey stood up to leave with just the single beer in his hand but the boy grabbed him and caught his attention again.  
"who's frank?", he asked. mikey took a deep breath, pointed at the angsty mess rolling around on the stage, and said, "my boyfriend".  
"i had a boyfriend too. key word being had. he's cute, though".  
"yeah. you're welcome for the beer, i gotta go", mikey practically ran back to behind the stage, not daring to miss the set change. 

when the band took their five minute breather, frank came backstage expecting a beer. mikey handed his over and frowned.  
"rocco has caught onto us".  
"shit", frank took a swig and handed it back, "i need a fake ID. being twenty fucking sucks. i'm glad you're old".  
"we're a few months apart, not ten years", mikey shook his head. 

okay, maybe he'd lied to the guy at the bar, but frank being his boyfriend wasn't that much of a stretch. they lived together, they ran errands for each other. and he wasn't hard on the eyes - especially not now, with sweat dripping down his face. so what harm was a little white lie to stop mikey from feeling so socially inept. 

"do you wanna date?", mikey blurted out, and frank almost choked.  
"um, buddy, what? i mean, i'm flattered but don't you remember like two days ago when i told you i had a dream that your brother-".  
"oh god no", mikey clasped his hands around his ears. "stop. not again".  
"sorry".  
"i told this guy you were my boyfriend so that he'd stop flirting with me. i don't even know why, it just came out", mikey explained, opening up frank's guitar case and handing him his instrument. "and then i ran away. i bet he thinks i'm a loser".  
"probably". 

frank didn't say anything else, but he smirked like he knew something before he took his guitar and went back onto the stage, launching into one of their b sides which mikey recognised from the second they sang out "we live on a thumbnail, with no better charm". 

he nodded his head to the music and looked around to see if he could find the guy from the bar in the crowd again, but he'd forgotten his glasses, and his head was still sort of foggy from his cold, so everybody blended into one big mass of movement. 

they didn't bring up the fake boyfriends thing until a week later, when they threw a party in their apartment. another rule of mikey's was never trust drunk frank, and yet here he was breaking his golden rule, eating chips and salsa in his kitchen while his roommate draped himself all over gerard.  
"i'm so glad you came tonight", frank giggled, and mikey took an angry bite of his food, glaring at the two. frank was absolutely fucking shameless, sat up on the kitchen counter top with an arm hooked around the older boy's neck, but gerard wasn't much better: he seemed to be very much enjoying the attention, standing willingly between frank's legs. mikey swore he even saw his hand touch the other boy's hip at one point. he could've thrown up in his mouth right there and then. 

"so gee, did mikey tell you that he has a crush on this guy he met at my show last week?", frank chortled. 

another mikey rule: don't tell gerard about your dating life. 

fuck this. mikey was gonna kill him. 

as mikey lunged forward, frank jumped down from the counter in preparation for a fight, and gerard had to stand between them. he grabbed his younger brother by the arm and sighed loudly.  
"mikes, don't attack frank. that's just childish", he said with a sternness in his voice that caught the attention from a few other people in the room.   
"me, childish? but he-".  
"it's just cute how you're so terrified of a little crush", frank sauntered forward, his eyes glistening with menace. "so sad and awkward and scared of cock that you told him i was your boyfriend". 

mikey went to argue back, but frank lunged at him and pulled him into a kiss instead. 

he knew should've pulled away instantly, but his body told him to give in, and so mikey did. he kissed frank back for three seconds too many, only realising what was happening when his mouth opened by instinct. 

gerard's mouth was also open, but out of pure shock. mikey swore he saw a tear on his older brother's cheek but he had no time to check because gerard was stammering out a weak, "mikey, i can't believe you'd do that", and running out of the room. frank licked his lips, glared at a confused and slightly dazed mikey, and followed gerard out. 

whatever the fuck kind of drama was going on right now, mikey did not have the capacity to give a shit. he'd caused an argument and been ditched barely an hour in. that was just typical. this is why he had his rules. 

it was even more perfect when he realised he had nobody else at this party to talk to, because ray was on vacation, and he hadn't spoken to his college friends since he dropped out last semester. 

mikey grumbled to himself the entire time he was crossing the busy living room, entering his bedroom and climbing out of his open window onto the fire escape. he practically jumped out of his skin when he found a boy sitting out there, hunched under a red hoodie. 

"hey", he turned around, grinning. mikey let out a sigh of relief. 

it was the guy from the bar. 

"if you're gonna stalk me, you at least have to tell me your name", mikey said, but he actually found himself sitting down. his logic was, hey, this night couldn't get any worse, maybe if this guy was actually a stalker it'd at least spice things up a little to get stabbed or kidnapped.  
"i'm pete. james invited me. we met after his show last night", the boy - pete - said, offering mikey a cigarette. "you weren't there".  
"i was at work", he nodded, taking a quick drag and handing it back. "i work at the record store. it sucks but i kind of have to because i dropped out of law school last month".  
"let me guess. quit your education to pursue your dream of having a music career?", pete raised an eyebrow. mikey raised one back.  
"something like that. how'd you know?".  
"i told you", pete said, "i have a band. i'm familiar with how other artist's brains work".  
"ah, of course. i kind of do. with my brother, gerard. his best friend ray too, but we need more members - we haven't quite found our sound yet but i know for sure whatever we end up playing is gonna beat law school's ass. and now frank is acting all pissy with me and i just-".  
"hey", pete's voice oddly calming. "it's okay. just sit here and watch the world like i am". 

so mikey did. he tried not to think about the argument, or how crushed gerard had looked when he kissed frank back. he distracted himself the way pete had suggested - by watching the moon and the stars; by watching the traffic moving forward with the same dull buzz as cars went whizzing by; by watching the tiny ant people staggering throughout the city. 

he watched the lines in the road, focused on how they were just white blurs instead of distinguishable lines. his eyesight was good with his glasses, but but that good. 

most of all, he listened to pete's breathing. it was steady and loud and, oddly, it felt like home. 

around fifteen minutes later, pete excused himself to go to the bathroom, so mikey decided it might be a good idea to go find gerard and apologise. he didn't even know why he'd spent so much time hanging out with the boy who he had no idea existed until now. mikey sort of found pete really interesting, though. 

he looked around the living room at first, where he was immediately offered beer from a stranger which he shrugged off, only to have another one burdened upon him. he declined it again and shoved past everyone, feeling himself verging on a panic attack. fuck, he just needed to find gerard. 

what mikey didn't need, however, was to open the door to frank's bedroom and he immediately faced with his roommate and older brother in a beyond compromising position, wearing not nearly enough clothes. 

he couldn't even scream. he just made cripplingly awkward eye contact with them both, shut the door and then ran into the kitchen to puke in the sink. 

"you good?", pete was wondering out of the bathroom around the same time that mikey was shaking and drinking rapidly from the faucet. "there was a line just to pee. you should invest in another bathroom, or tell your friends to piss faster". 

from what mikey gathered through roughly twenty minutes of conversation with the boy, Pete was a thunderstorm; messy hair, distressed jeans, witty jokes and shameless flirting. there was absolutely no way he was mikey's type - romantic or platonic - and so there reason for him to ask what he asked next. 

"do you wanna get out of here?". 

the two left almost immediately. mikey was huddled up inside his jacket and letting pete lead the way to wherever they were going. he adored his city, especially the tall buildings in the area he lived. there was a park a few blocks away but as a rule, mikey didn't walk through it at night. 

pete sort of made him forget about that rule. 

nothing about the weather seemed normal at all - it was the new year but it still felt crisp and christmassy outdoors, and the trees of the park glistened with what mikey hoped wasn't snow because he hadn't brought gloves or a hat out. 

"so what happened?", pete lead him to the lake and sat down on a bench. the two skipped rocks across the water until mikey took a deep breath and readied himself to speak.  
"frank got pissed at me for some dumb fucking reason and then my brother, gerard, he got pissed at me too and they stormed off and when i found them again they were fucking - fucking! who the god damn hell throws a party and then leaves all the guests loose in their house while they fuck my brother".   
"wait, he fucked your brother? arent you and frank dating?", he said, mikey instantly fumbling for a way to save himself and keep his lie a secret, but before he could stammer out some lame excuse, pete was leaning in close.  
"i'm onto you, mikey", he whispered into the taller boy's ear, lips dangerously close, then pulled away and smiled. 

before pete walked off, mikey thought they might kiss. 

he actually felt disappointed when they didn't. but he had to shake that confusing little thought out of his head and launch into his explanation before pete clocked onto anything. anything else. 

he'd said it once and he'd say it again. jersey was so pretty this time of year, especially at night - mikey didn't even mind the cold. the two of them walked and mikey talked, surprised pete was letting him get a word in edgeways. it can't have been later than eleven o'clock but there was barely anyone around, and the road seemed slick with ice as the walked down it, holding onto each other so that they didn't slip and fall. 

"so i've got a lot of rules. everybody always makes fun of me for it", mikey was still trying to explain himself by the time they'd reached pete's apartment buildings, as it'd been a non-verbal agreement that they'd go there. he had a really fluttery feeling in his stomach that he was really not a fan of. "one of them is no flirting with cute strangers. i don't want to get my heart broke".  
"it's nice to be called cute", pete smirked, letting go of the taller boy's arm so that he could let them into the building, and mikey blushed upon realising what he'd said, "but shouldn't one of your rules be no lying? it just seems moral".  
"the rules aren't about morality, they're about saving me from making a mess of my life", mikey followed him up a few flights of stairs, bounding up them faster than the smaller boy because he had longer legs and a humongous stride. "like my rule about not going on upside down rollercoasters. that shit is not safe, gravity is not always on our sides". 

"and shouldn't not going into a stranger's apartment be on the list?", pete unlocked his door and turned the light on, mikey taking about three steps in before he clocked onto what pete said. 

"can you promise me you're not a stalker or a murderer?", his face turned white. pete went into his small kitchenette, glancing at the knife block on his countertop. "i've never used them - i can't cook. i think they're actually blunt so you're probably okay".  
"so if i take a shower and crash on your couch to avoid seeing my best friend now that i know his dick has been anywhere near my brother, that's just totally fine?", mikey smiled, walking over to pete. they were so close that pete could fiddle with the collar of mikey's jacket. he did.  
"it's fine as long as you don't lie to me again", the shorter boy was smirking, looking up at mikey with innocence glistening in his eyes.   
"oh, i promise", mikey leant in, but pete did at the same time, so now their noses were pressed together. "you make me break all my rules, pete. i can't figure out why". 

and then he was being silenced by a pair of lips on his, and jesus, this was so much better than kissing frank. this was way, way better than kissing frank, because pete didn't have an annoying tacky lip ring and his breath smelt like spearmint. mikey didn't even protest when pete had his tongue between his teeth and his fingers hooked around his belt loops. 

neither of them said anything about it when it finally ended after what felt like hours. pete just nodded in the direction of the bathroom and mikey went and got into the shower, pressing his head against the unfamiliar wall. he let himself sigh as the water beat onto the nape of his neck, hot like pete’s breath had been. 

if he had a rule surrounding kissing strangers with black hair and hazel eyes, he'd well and truly broken it.


	2. do you wanna get out of here?

"sweet little brother and sweet little brother's sexy roommate, i'm here", gerard went out of his way to be annoying when he waltzed into frank and mikey's apartment that weekend.   
things were back to normal with the trio, besides a little flirting that mikey just decided he'd have to get used to. at least they weren't dating or loved up or anything, because if he had to sit and watch them talk in baby talk to each other, he'd probably shoot himself dead. 

frank moved up on sofa for gerard to sit down. "hey", he smiled, and mikey noticed how goofy he fucking looked. god, he was pathetic. a little bit of cock had him acting like a complete and utter lovesick puppy dog. 

at least gerard seemed oblivious to his own feelings, giving frank a normal, non committed, totally heterosexual and platonic smile as he sat down. "hey frankie. hi mikes".   
"don't bother talking to him", frank laughed, "i haven't been able to pry that thing out of his hands since he got back from that guys house".   
"fuck off. hi gee", mikey didn't look up from his phone, texting rapidly, lips curled into a subtle smile, letting out a faint giggle every so often.   
"you got his number? you didn't tell me that, mikey. i really wish you'd start telling me about this guy. do you even know his last name?", gerard sighed.   
"oh my god, you're relentless. i haven't even seen him since wednesday night - no wait, i thursday morning, he made me breakfast before i left. i slept on his couch, it was innocent", mikey put his phone on his lap and looked his brother in the eyes. "yeah, we kissed, but need i remind you that i also kissed frank that night, and you did something even more unspeakable. but we've moved on. let's move on".  
"is this what moving on looks like?", frank snatched the phone from his roommates lap, and mikey had unfortunately not been birthed with the blessing of cat-like reflexes. before he could even open his mouth to threaten frank's life, the shorter boy was already reading out what was on the screen. 

peterpan: i thnk we fit 2gether nicely   
mikey: u need 2 stop taking those quizzes   
peterpan: astrology = no joke !   
mikey: mhmm. wht does mine say?   
peterpan: tht ur supposed 2 kiss me again  
mikey: tht can be arranged :). g2g, gee is here   
peterpan: c u in my dreams. ttyl ;) 

mikey buried his head in his hands and felt his pale cheeks flush with red hot colour. he sounded so fucking whipped in those messages, and it didn't help that pete had saved his number with that stupid fucking nickname. 

"you have to invite him to my show tonight, mikes, you have to!", frank almost leapt out of his seat in sheer excitement. gerard tried to grab the phone to scroll up in the chat but mikey definitely didn't want him to see the photo pete had attached not ten minutes ago, so he grabbed it and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket. 

pete had a nice dick. that's all mikey had to say on the matter. 

"what about my rules?", mikey sighed, feeling stuck. gerard rolled his eyes.   
"baby bro, you've broken all your rules already". 

he had a good point, so mikey sighed and gave in, agreeing to give pete the invite, mostly because he didn't want frank to start a riot. 

and to think he'd been making fun of frank for getting excited over a guy. 

but pete wasn't just 'a guy': he was happiness rolled into a fun sized package. he was beautiful too, probably the most gorgeous guy mikey had ever met, with two big soulful eyes under two perfectly in place eyebrows. 

he turned up to the gig that night just as gerard had gone back stage, thankfully, surprising mikey - who was leaning against the barricade talking to frank - with a hug.   
"you made it!", mikey shouted and grinned, ignoring frank snort as he hugged pete back.   
"yeah i did", he grinned back, giving a sad little twirl in the compact space. he was wearing tight jeans, so tight that they were almost offensive, and were also showing a very subtle yet impressive outline. "i shoved past like twenty guys to get to the front. i've never been this close to the stage before. hey, you're frank, i'm-".  
"pete. look after mikey tonight, kid. enjoy yourselves, but not too much", frank winked, shaking pete's hand and then standing up to run to his position on the stage. 

the lights dimmed and the feedback from the mic echoed throughout the basement venue. the show was starting. mikey was kind of relieved because it meant that he didn't have to talk to pete. they just grinned at each other instead. mikey shuffled off momentarily to get them both a beer, and then a few minutes later they were dancing. 

mikey didn't normally dance. he had point blank refused to dance at his cousin's wedding not long ago. he'd also refused to smile for the wedding pictures because he hated his smile, and he usually also hated the way his legs looked so lanky and flailing when he danced, but pete brought something out in him. he penetrated the wall mikey had built up, breaking every single rule while he did so, and injecting mikey with the self confidence he'd never quite had before. 

pete was actually a really good dancer, which slightly annoyed mikey because pete seemed to be good at just about everything: making breakfast; making out; making him laugh. and now this - swaying his hips, eyes closed, rubbing up against mikey every so often in a way that made the taller boy's heart do a triple flip. he was really getting into the music now that pencey were slowing the tempo down, getting lost in the rhythm. mikey felt lost and awkward, resting both his hand's on pete's hips to try and match his movements, and he swore he heard pete let out a little groan. 

a couple more movements and pete was grinding against him, mikey sucking in a sharp breath and then hoping the boy didn't hear. this position wasn't x-rated but it definitely wasn't innocent either. it was just verging on impropriety. whatever it was, it was making the blood slowly rush from mikey's head to another part of his anatomy. 

"you're a good dancer", mikey whispered in his ear, and pete's whole body shuddered. "and you smell like strawberries. i like it".   
"you breaking all your rules tonight, mikes?", the boy replied, tilting his head back for a second so mikey could hear him better, pressing himself into the other boy some more in the process. he gasped and then smirked upon doing so. "you're hard for me?". 

fuck. 

mikey couldn't even find the time to be embarrassed, because fuck. that was his half hard dick against pete's ass, the friction almost unbearable. he had convinced himself that if pete moved one more fucking time he'd start to see stars, or little cartoon birds would start to spin around his head, or he'd simply just pass out right there on the dance floor.

pete turned around to face him, looping one arm around mikey's neck, still swaying. mikey had no idea what to do, not with his cock touching pete's through a painfully thin layer of fabric.  
"what's your last name?", he asked on a whim, and pete laughed.  
"huh?".  
"your last name, what-", all mikey could hear was his brother whining about how little mikey knew about this guy, and jesus christ, he'd never listened to gee before, why was now the time he decided to start?. "i'm way. mikey way".  
"pete wentz", pete said, and then he repeated mikey's name. "mikeyway". he smiled as he said it, the name rolling off his tongue.

pete wentz.

pete wentz was grinding against him on the dance floor at the dive, kissing at his neck, giving a tiny bite every so often that sent shockwaves down mikey's spine.

"i don't know anything about you".  
"you'll learn".  
"well do you wanna get out of here?", mikey grabbed pete's face, his hands sweaty against the boy's cheeks. "pete, can i-".  
"is that a favourite line of yours? asking me if i wanna get out of here?", pete grinned.   
"pete-", mikey was so monotone. so perfectly mikey. it was driving pete crazy, and pete was driving mikey crazy. they were insane together.   
"kiss me", pete nodded, downright feverish. so mikey did. 

they could barely keep their hands off of each for the rest of the night, and when the tightness in mikey's jeans became an actual, real, quite painful problem, they hardly let go of other all the way to the bathroom. it was covered in graffiti and most of the stalls had doors that were hanging off of their hinges. it didn't matter. pete just pulled mikey into the cleanest stall - clean being an overstatement, because mikey was sure that if he got on his knees in here then his jeans would get soaked in piss. but fuck it. 

"you know, i've never done this before", pete giggled, hiccuping. the two of them had drank way more beer as the night went on, because they both desperately needed to be drunk for this. mikey worked at the boy's belt, hands shaky from nerves or from the alcohol, or a mixture of both.  
"didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend?", mikey frowned.   
"i- yeah, let's not talk about him", pete assisted the other boy with getting his belt undone, shoving his jeans down. the belts of jeans always felt way better when they were around the ankles. mikey shrugged. it must've been a bad breakup or something. it wasn't his place to ask.   
"i mean one night stand type things", pete explained. "i've had sex".   
"who's saying this is a one night thing?".  
"who's saying we're having sex?". 

and an embarrassingly long time later, considering the alcohol and the slight anxiety bubbling in the pit of mikey's stomach, it was safe to say that they were definitely having sex. 

definitely. 

frank nearly threw his glass of water across the apartment when he found out the next morning. it hadn't been mikey's fault that he found out: frank was just smart, and an asshole, and it wasn't exactly like mikey could hide it anyway. he was in pain - actual, physical pain. there were bruises on his hips where pete's hands had been tight for grip as he slid inside, and bruises on his neck from a completely different activity. pete had a matching set. 

what's worse was, mikey thought, he actually quite liked the pain. it was gentle and harsh at the same time, a reminder of what had happened. 

he kept replaying the sounds pete was making under his breath over and over again in his head, those feverish groans of satisfaction and the mumbles of infatuated praise. frank had to literally slap him out of his daydream. 

"so are you gonna call him?", frank asked, sitting down. mikey gripped his coffee like it was attached to his hands, nursing his hangover from hell.   
"i'd be an asshole not to", mikey said, and then noticed frank frowning at him. "and okay, fine, i guess i like him a little. he smells like strawberries".  
"yeah?".  
"a lot, actually", mikey sighed, leaning back into the sofa cushions. "but he doesn't talk about himself. like, i told him all about my rules and shit but he barely even talks about his life".  
"you've had like, three conversations with the guy, mikes. realyou just have to give it a go. if somebody is making you break your rules, they're worth cracking". 

and maybe frank gave good advice sometimes, because those words stuck with mikey until a week later, when there was a knocking at the door of the apartment - too loud to be ray and not rhythmical enough to be gerard. mikey leapt over the back of the sofa to answer it as quickly as he could. 

"hey, sugar", pete was stood there, grinning, a six pack of beers under his arm. "i was in the neighbourhood. i'm here to offer you a beer".   
"you're asking me if i want to grab a drink in my own apartment?", mikey laughed, taking the drinks from him and putting them on the coffee table. pete followed him in, closing the door behind himself.   
"truthfully, i haven't been sleeping good", he snaked an arm around mikey's waist, grabbing the taller boy's attention. 

pete was always sending mikey messages in the early hours of the morning - from obscure thoughts to dumb little song lyrics - so it was no secret that he didn't really sleep well. mikey didn't know why pete was an insomniac, but he did know that he always crashed out after sex, because he always wanted to cuddle. 

mikey thought it was cute, having the powers to make a boy sleep just by lying there, warm, steadily breathing. sometimes he watched him for a few minutes before he settled down, stroking 

"first you invite yourself into my apartment, then my bed. what next?", mikey put his arms on his shoulders, and the two of them just rocked there. swaying. like a shitty version of a slow dance, because there was no music, though pete would probably hum some of mikey asked. 

he didn't ask. instead he just stopped down to cup pete's face and stroke a thumb tentatively over his cheek.   
"how about that beer?", he asked.   
"how about those lips?", pete whispered back, and then their mouths were pressed softly together, and mikey realised why he didn't mind it when pete invited himself over. 

the two had fallen into this routine of making up some obscure excuse just to come over and 'hang out', which almost always resulted in sex. mikey wasn't complaining, especially because he actually had the apartment to himself for the first time. 

"pete", mikey said, and pete groaned loudly.  
"here it comes".   
"what?!", mikey rolled his eyes and gave a little smile. "you don't even know what i'm gonna say".   
"i do", pete snaked away from the boy and flung himself onto the sofa. "you're gonna say we need to talk about our feelings more often".  
"well, it'd be nice. i mean, i do want to get to know you more, not just your favourite colours and stuff", mikey stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, left hand hooked around his right elbow comfortingly. "i could tell you the reason i always make stupid rules up".   
"i thought you did it to keep your life on track", pete grinned, patting his lap. mikey bit his lip and then gave in, moving to straddle the boy. pete settled back into the sofa cushions, smiling as his spine realigned.   
"there's more to it", he nodded, and then launched into the real reason he was so intent on keeping his life together.

mikey was a reckless once. it scared him sometimes how much pete reminded him of the old days, where teenage mikey filled his free time causing havoc in boring old belleville. he had the options of "have as much fun as possible, or die in a beige coloured hell", and any seventeen year old with a brain was going to avoid the latter like his life depended on it. 

unfortunately for the way family, their youngest son didn't really fit in with the quiet lifestyle that they tried so desperately to attain: one son being a little fruity was bad enough, so when mikey got into his usual trouble - being hungover in church, skipping school to smoke in the skate park, throwing temper tantrums like they were going out of style - the tension hit its boiling point. mikey knew he was a little shit, but he never expected to be slapped across the face and called a disappointment. because gerard was due to leave for art school in the city, he took mikey with him, and  
they hadn't spoken to their mother since. 

pete ran his fingers through mikey's hair, pulling the boy in to kiss him gently as he finished his ramble. mikey smiled into the kiss, relaxing on top of pete. he was sure this was the longest they'd been together without being naked. he didn't care. 

"so you're rules are because this is your second chance, and you don't wanna fuck it up?".   
"yeah", mikey nodded, his face squashed up against pete's chest, "because gee and i weren't even close. we're best friends now but... not then. i was an asshole back then, especially to him. i used to call him a faggot loser. now look at me".   
"well i think that's adorable, mikeyway", pete grinned. "thank you for breaking a lot of your rules for me". 

this was it, mikey thought. he was finally getting pete to open up, and maybe - just maybe - then they'd be able to do something other than fucking. 

not that mikey minded the sex.

unfortunately, though, pete was up on his feet and heading for the bedroom before mikey could hit him with a 'your turn', and sure, maybe he could persuade pete to talk... but he could also follow him into the bedroom and spend the next hour doing the complete opposite.

he didn’t know what the hell pete’s story was, but his last name was wentz and he smelt like strawberries. that was enough to pacify right now.


End file.
